The Gift Of Forgiveness

Our children have been privy to many of our every day disagreements.  Ones that arise from miscommunication or a misunderstanding that are quickly resolved.  I personally think it's healthy that our children see that we are not perfect and neither is our relationship and that they see us work things out.  Relationships are messy, not easy. One person is not always right.  They need a visual of how to talk through and work out problems.  As their parents, we're supposed to be that visual...when things work the way they should.  Apparently, we (I) gave them a lesson I didn't mean to.

A few months ago, Chuck and I had a doozy of an argument.  Not just a little misunderstanding, but one where we each took a stand and wouldn't budge.  We've only had two arguments this bad in our marriage and this was the second.  It was not a pretty sight...or should I say, sound.  Weapons of choice were words and tone of voice.  The kids were asleep (or so we thought), so we didn't guard our words.  It was ugly. It was the opposite of love.  It was not honoring the other person like we both promised to.  It was not giving one another the benefit of the doubt as love does. It was a perfect lesson in how not to treat the one you love.  I must confess, it was more on my part.  I used my words like daggers, my tone of voice like steel.  

However, after taking some time apart the rest of the night to cool off, God did a number on my heart. I couldn't sleep a wink.  I knew I over-reacted.  I knew I was wrong.  I knew I didn't show love and the weight of what my words must have done to my husband was threatening to bury me.  I confessed and apologized some time around dawn.  Always the gracious and forgiving one, he accepted me with open arms and a giant dose of forgiveness and left for work.

But unbeknownst to us, Bennett was awake through the whole thing.  His bedroom is across the hall from ours.  He heard every word.  My heart dropped to my feet upon this realization the next morning.  It was like being caught in your sin.  You know you're wrong and there's nothing you can do to hide or recover.  You just hang your head in sorrow and regret.  The weight I carried that day (and many more to come) was more than I could bear.

When Bennett came to see me in the morning the first thing he said was, "No kid should have to hear their parents talk like that."  I asked him what he heard and he just hung his head, got tears in his eyes and said, "I'd rather not say."  I felt like the biggest heel in the world.  He said, "Let's just keep this between us.  Gavin and Chloe don't need to know about this."  I hugged him and told him how sorry I was (which sounded too lame for what we both felt) and how Daddy and I had worked things out before he left for work.  He said, "I hope when I get older I fight like Daddy, patient and nice."  Low blow - but true.

How humbling it is to be at your child's mercy because of your own bad choices.  If I had a whip, I would have lashed myself with it over and over and would have gladly given him the chance.  I felt the burden of guilt and it was too heavy to carry.  Bennett couldn't get past it and felt the need to remind me over and over that day and the next about how sad he was and about how wrong I was.  When Chuck found out he was doing this, he talked to him.  He told him that he needed to release Mommy from her guilt so she could be free.  That constantly beating someone over the head with their bad choice does not cause growth.  He told Bennett that he forgave me and now Bennett would need to search his heart to find out if he could honestly forgive me and not mention the incident again.  

Bennett wrestled with this for several hours and then came to find me.  He said, "Mom. I release you from your guilt.  I don't want you to walk around feeling bad anymore. I forgive you.  I want you to be free."  Even writing this again brings me to tears the way it did that day.  The breath of fresh air I was able to finally breathe knowing I didn't scar my child for life.  I thanked him for the gift of forgiveness.  I don't know that I ever experienced the depth of forgiveness as I had that day.  I now know what it truly means to not be worthy of love, forgiveness and grace, but be shown it anyways.  I always thought I knew...but now I felt it.  And oh how good it feels.

Why do I write this?  Why do I want to leave this confession for my children to read when I'm no longer here?  I want them to know how imperfect I am.  How I lived at the foot of the Cross and it was only because of the mercy of God that I was able to accomplish anything in this life.  I want them to see and know that they will also mess up.  And then they will get up and move on and learn from their mistakes.  I want them to know that their best striving is not enough.  God wants us to surrender and let Him have his way in us.  Sometimes, because of our free will, we chose the harder path, the harder way to learn a lesson....just as I had done.  But if I hadn't gone thru that, I would never cherish and know the gift of forgiveness in that way.  Now I know how to offer it to others when maybe I wouldn't have before.  Now my children know that I can relate when they tell me how mad they are at someone.  I can relate my story and ask them if they're ready to travel that same humbling path or if they want to listen to my advice and give up the anger.

I take great comfort in this Psalm:

A man's steps are established  (ordered) by the Lord,

and He takes pleasure (delights) in his way.

Though he stumble, he will not utterly fall,

for the Lord upholds him with his hand (power).

Psalm 37:23-24

Not if I fall, but though I fall.  Not a matter of if, but when. He knows I'm going to mess up.  But He upholds me with His hand.  He won't cast me aside, shun me, accept me back only after I learned my lesson.  No, He holds my hand.

May I remember to hold my children's hands while they still live with me.  May I remember to be as gentle with them in their failings as God was with mine.  May I lead them to the one who can hold their hand for the rest of their lives.

Leaves And Wind Are Not Friends

Yesterday was the day we decided it was time to finally take care of the multitude of leaves that decided to make our backyard their new resting place.  The easiest way to describe how our backyard looked was:  think of a million and 7 leaves, now think of them scattered aimlessly over the grass without allowing any grass to peek out.  It was pretty at first, maybe even a bit nostalgic.  Having never really had to rake leaves in the past, we thought it would be fun.  But let me preface this with: fall is a season.  The leaves don't fall off all at one time.  They keep coming and coming and coming.  Thus we keep raking and keep raking and keep raking.  We decided to wait for every last leaf to make it's final decent before we picked up the rake for the last time.  We deemed yesterday "The Last Time".

On a side note, all of our neighbors (who are all native to this region),  have this funny looking contraption that actually sucks up all the leaves into a bag.  I'm thinking that will be an excellent birthday present for Chuck next year. The only rakes in the neighborhood appear to be ours.

So here we are family bonding all day Saturday in the backyard working our butts off.  We're cutting down brush, dead tree limbs and raking leaves and raking more leaves.  We raked so many that we had 10 massive piles.  Yes, I know, we wanted a lot with trees and we got just that.  We just didn't remember that there is a season called Autumn since we've kinda skipped that one for the past 25 years down in Texas.  Lots of trees mean lots of leaves.  The first time we raked, it was for the sole purpose of jumping in the leaf pile.  And boy was it fun (and itchy).  We thought that would be it.  But we thought wrong.  We could have jumped in a leaf pile everyday for 2 months if we wanted to.

So there are our 10 ginormous piles scattered randomly over the backyard.  We didn't have any lawn bags to dump them into.  We decided to leave them there and run out and get the bags after dinner.  What we forgot was that after dinner it would be pitch black out already because of the time change.  It also seemed we were having a little change in our weather pattern.  The wind decided to start gusting at some obscene speed.  It also decided to start creeping dangerously close to the freezing point.  Freezing weather and cold wind do not a friend make.

While the kids are all snuggled up watching "Over the Hedge" inside, Chuck and I are outside battling the elements.  First of all, I'm armed with a flash light that has the diameter of a penny.  The largest we could find.  The lighting back in our wooded backyard is about the color of pitch black.  So we were thankful for the pin point of light, but it was making it awfully hard to see where the lawn bag was when one was trying to dump a shovel full of leaves inside a small hole in the dark.  Add to that the wind gusts and our little charade was quickly developing into a nightmare.  The wind was blowing ALL the leaves off of our 10 gigantic piles and re-spreading them over our beautifully leaf-free lawn again.  It was a race against time and wind.  At one point Chuck & I were standing in front of one of the piles trying to block the flow of any more leaves out into the yard with only our bodies as a shield.  We were not about to let a whole day of work be blown away.

We managed to fill 10 lawn bags with leaves.  However, that only took care of 4 of the 10 piles we had spaced strategically all over the yard.   We had to cut our losses and go in for the night.  I think I dove in head first into my tub of boiling hot water.  I don't do cold well.  I know... it's going to be a long winter. But at least we won't have any leaves under all that snow (once we finish picking up the rest of the piles tomorrow).  And that's all that really matters.

Solitude

Ever since we moved and put the children in school, my world has been turned upside down.  I went from Homeschool Mom/Stay-at-home Mom to....nothing.  Those things are what defined me.  Now I don't know what defines me. I'm still not sure what to do or what to call myself.  Am I this?:

I actually don't mind doing all the household chores.  This is all I wanted to be when I grew up.  I actually take great delight in serving my family.  But that doesn't keep me busy all day long.  And there's the problem....the word BUSY.  I guess I used to be so busy homeschooling and then taking care of my family 24/7 that I became accustomed to having every free minute of time accounted for.  Free time?  What's that?

Another unfortunate thing is, sadly, I had taken too much pride in what I did.  I often failed to see anything good that I was able to do or give was solely because of what God was accomplishing through me instead of actions based on my own merit.  Pride is so ugly and deceptive.  I tried to guard myself against it only to be blind-sided by it when all was stripped away.  Broken.

When we first moved, I filled all this new free time with decorating the house, painting, cleaning, organizing...that way I didn't have to think about the void. I could just stay busy and not have to deal with my heart.  Isn't staying busy the curse of our modern times?  Noise creates superficiality.  I was afraid of solitude and had become very superficial.

Henri J.M. Nouwen says:

“We enter into solitude first of all to meet our Lord and to be with Him and Him alone. Only in the context of grace can we face our sin; only in the place of healing do we dare to show our wounds; only with a single-minded attention to Christ can we give up our clinging fears and face our own true nature. Solitude is a place where Christ remodels us in his own image and frees us from the victimizing compulsions of the world.” 

After coming to the end of myself (again and again and again), I find all I need is Jesus.  I don't have to have a title, a ministry, a high paying job, homeschool, work, or volunteer to make a difference.  The difference starts in my heart.  In letting go of all my self-sufficiency, of all I have to offer.  All I have is my life to give.  Am I willing to be a nobody for Him?  Am I willing to spend my entire day praying if that is what He wants of me?

When I ask Him what He wants me to do now all I hear over and over is, "Be still and know that I am God."  Being still is not my forte.  I never sit for long.  I have to do.  It's part of how He made me.  But right now, the greater lesson is in the solitude.  Quiet time.  I have alot of it now.  I'm getting better at sitting still and waiting for Him and resting in Him....not because I'm trying harder but because I quit trying.  I'm letting go.  I believe that is called 'dying to myself' and dying in any form is always painful, but the beauty that awaits on the other side is priceless.

Outraged

I can't believe I had to learn this awful, sad truth from a table full of 2nd graders.  Nevertheless, that is how it happened.  I was told, are you sitting down, that Cookie Monster is no longer on Sesame Street.  What an outrage!  They informed me that they replaced him with Veggie Monster.  Seriously?  What kid is going to want to watch a monster that formerly ate cookies, suddenly change his tune and start eating veggies?  This is ridiculous!

I told the kids that we should boycott Sesame Street.  Come to find out, they're too old to be watching that kind of stuff...but they're still in the 'know' because of younger brothers and sisters.  I asked the kids "why?" thinking they had some inside scoop since they totally blind-sided me on this.  One child said, "Maybe they think he's being a bad influence on us and encouraging us to eat too many cookies?"  You think?  So, are they planning on retiring Oscar the Grouch because of his negative influence too?  Should we change his name to Optimistic Oscar?

Seriously, they are all MONSTERS.  Kids are scared of monsters.  Plus, as Gavin so aptly pointed out, "Who is going to teach us the letter of the day if there is no Cookie Monster?"  Excellent question.  The kids around the lunch table were all well aware of where I stood on this issue after our little discussion.  I sure hope they don't go home and ask their parents what 'boycott' means.

Update:  Thankfully, a friend who loves Cookie Monster as much as I do, actually took the time to dig deeper and find out if this sordid information handed to me by my 2nd grade informants is infact true.  Thank God she did.  After reviewing snopes.com, I have now learned the real truth that seemed to be lost on the children.  Cookie is not being replaced, he's just eating fewer cookies.  Whew!  He's trying to make healthier choices, which I can understand, given the whole child obesity problem.  

The Dog That Won't Bark and The Bird That Won't Chirp

Of course we ended up with the dog that won't bark and the bird that won't tweet.  It's our family and that is just par for the course.  Why would anything be normal in this house?

 The dog (Ninja)

The bird (Azul)

You will never find these two in the same picture together.  That is because when we "introduced" them, Ninja thought we bought the bird as a snack for her.  She instantly tried to seize the bird thus putting their relationship in a very tenuous situation.  

Since I have been the co-owner of The Bird, as I affectionally refer to it, for a week now, I feel as though I can speak with some authority.  Technically The Bird is Bennett's.  It sleeps in his room (in my house), in a cage (that I bought).  He does all the feeding, playing and cleaning of it.  In it's week of living with me, I have heard it tweet like 5 times only.  What's up with that?  It's a bird.  That's how they're supposed to communicate.

Then there's Ninja.  It would be better to describe her as a stuffed animal that just happens to be laying in the same room I'm in at all times.  She expects me to read her mind (which I can).  There are only two instances that would cause her to bark: 1. it is the weekend and she feels we are sleeping in too late and have forgotten about her 6am breakfast time or 2. she has sat at the back door for over an hour with out me sensing her need to go out.  At one of those two times, she'll let out one demanding bark.  Other than that, it's radio silence all the time.

What's next?  A fish that won't swim?

A Teachable Moment

After school Bennett and Chloe decided to play football together.  I guess he was desperate.  I heard lots of laughs and fun screams coming from the front yard, so I just assumed it was all working out.   But as they were coming in for dinner I heard Bennett dispense some useful advice to his sister, "Chlo, you might want to think about being a good sport when you play."  There you have it.  Drop the bomb and walk away. Leave her sitting there contemplating her actions that she see's absolutely nothing wrong with. She yelled after him with, "I am too a good sport Bennett!"

When I asked him about their conversation later he said, "Oh that.  I just wanted to tell Chloe that she would have more fun if she had a good attitude when she played.  She normally gets all mad when things don't go her way."  Good luck - I'm still working on trying to explain that one to her.

I thanked him for his patience and encouragement of her. He seems to understand she's just 7 and not quite as mature as him yet.  Maybe she will listen to him when she doesn't listen to us.

But as I type, the teacher has yet again invited the pupil outside for a second chance at redeeming herself. Maybe there is hope.

Undermining the English Language

Gavin has decided to write a novel.  Because of this monumental decision, he has deemed it necessary to come up with a pen name.  And because he never does anything the normal way, he has decided that his pen name must exploit the English language.  His goal is to use all the silent letters in one name.  This is what he came up with:

Phough Ptognemknote

(pronunciation:  fuff toe-nem-note)

If you ever happen to come by a book written by this author, I highly recommend it.  He will most likely exploit and bend and trivialize all the rules of our crazy, English language.  And he will have fun doing it.

The Perfect Storm

October 31 is the Perfect Storm for us:  Bennett's Birthday, Halloween, and DUFDN (Dress Up For Dinner Night).  But this particular one was even more special because we had special visitors.  My parents came to see us and celebrate the perfect storm with us.  I think the pictures speak for themselves of our love of dressing up as a family.

Let me introduce to you: Grandpa (Bob the Builder), Grandma (PBR Cowboy), Gavin (The Hippy), Bennett (The 80's Rockstar) and Chloe (1700's Girl)

Chuck decided to go with the old stand-by of Cooter the Redneck and I wanted to do Princess Lea, but didn't have a white, flowy gown (besides my wedding dress which I was NOT going to use as a costume), so I ad-libbed, I've got the Princess Lea hair and the wardrobe of a Jedi Knight.  However, one trick-or-treater asked if I was a librarian.  Go figure.

Thankfully it wasn't too cold yet so the kids didn't have to wear coats over their costumes so that you get the full effect.

And here is the birthday boy picking out his present: a new parakeet.  It was love at first sight.  His name is Azul even though he is green and yellow.  He is on the fast track to living his dream: becoming a falconer.  Now that he knows how to deal with a parakeet, it's all downhill from here.

The Inside of Gavin's Brain

The other day we were all talking about something we were afraid about.  Gavin knows my propensity for the 'worse case scenario' mentality.  So obviously I was talking about some unfounded fear and taking it to the n'th degree when Gavin tells me, "Mom, you just let your fears ferment."

Hmmmm....I had never thought of it that way, but now that you mention it, yes...I will be sure to no longer allow my fears to ferment.

Today I had asked him to turn on some music for me while I was preparing dinner.  He gladly turned on Grooveshark.  Instead of putting my playlist on, he put his on.  I had asked specifically for one song.  He came up to tell me, "Mom, I increased the probability that you will hear that song by adding it to the list 7 times.  So, since I have approximately 49 songs on my playlist, the probability that you will hear it again is about 1 in every 7 songs."

Thanks.  Um...but I didn't ask you to do any math, just put on a song.

At dinner tonight he told us how awesome RNA is.  He said he just loves amino acids and went on to explain and detail what an RNA chain looks like only using scientific terminology.  It's as if he had a tape recorder on during science class today and he just pressed play when he got home.  I cannot even begin to imagine how awesome it must feel to have a photographic memory or a tape recorder for a mind.  He went on to excitedly tell us all about the different parts of a cell (as you would see in a college text book) and then ended with, "I just love microbiology!"

And I just love you Gavin!  I love how you see the world and your excitement for learning. I love how you drink it up and share it with such excitement.  Thank you for always teaching me.  And thank you for still asking me questions thinking I know any answers at all.  Google, I love you.

A Decade

Turning ten is special, I know

I'm always amazed as I watch you grow

In character, stature and grace

All while keeping that handsome smile on your face.

I love who you are and who you're growing to be,

A young man with a tender heart towards God and his family.

You care about others, their feelings and fears

And are a loyal friend by choosing to stay near

To the underdog and downcast, hurt and sad,

Never judging but loving, even those who are 'bad'.

You let your light shine, for that I am proud.

Maybe that's why wherever you are there's always a crowd.

I love watching you learn and teaching yourself

About mythology and birds and anything else

Animal related because you're obsessed

With everything a young zoologist loves best.

You read and you learn and you share your joy,

That's what makes me proud of my 10 year old boy.

One of your gifts is being good with a ball.

It doesn't matter which one, you're good with them all.

There's so much to learn and practice with sports,

Like teamwork and discipline and playing on the court

With a good attitude and a teachable heart

Because that is the place where character starts.

On your journey to becoming a man, 

There will be many you'll learn from who'll give you a hand.

Watch and listen and soon you will learn

About how to make decisions and to whom you should turn.

Stay humble and honest and teachable too.

These three will carry you all the way through.

Remember to be thankful everyday.

These are my reminders to you today.

Put God first in all you do.

This is my heart's prayer for you.

Love, Mom

Weirdo

We have a saying in this house.  It's called: "I think you're acting weird today."  Anyone is allowed to bestow this saying on any other house-hold inhabitant at any time as long as that person is bona-fide weird that day.  I'm fond of using it on Chuck on numerous occasions.  Anything qualifies as weird.  Here are a few actions that would cause one to initiate 'the saying': staring off into space, being too quiet, being too loud, not wanting tea, giving weird answers in response to simple questions, you know... pretty much anything 'not normal'.

Well...as of late, Gavin would qualify as 'not normal'.  Seeing as though I've never been through the adolescence stage with any of my children before, I'm not exactly sure what to expect when.  I never know if how he is acting is normal or not.  I'm still a 'first time mom'.

My quiet, laid-back, unassuming, thoughtful, articulate, considerate, loves-to-sleep-in child I've known for over 12 years now has apparently morphed into another creature all together.  I even asked him today if they were feeding him bags of undiluted sugar while at school.  He said "no".  So I have to believe that another force is at work.  I'm blaming on-coming teen-age-hood.

The son who could sit still and read for hours now can't stand still to save his life.  The one who used to value silence and solitude now needs to constantly bang his hands on any and everything like a drum beating out some rhythm known only to his brain.  The child who was so mild mannered has become the adolescent who is climbing the walls and seriously has me contemplating the question of "What does ADHD look like"?

It is as if we've flipped some imaginary switch.  He has also become a 'stands-too-close-loud-talker'.  He has no volume control, not even when 6 inches from my face.  I love that he still loves to talk with me about his day, life, dreams, etc...but not at full volume.  I have noise issues.  I also have sensitivity to too much motion issues.  I know that is not a technical term. I don't know if there even is a name for my condition...yet.  But it involves going literally crazy when someone is moving way too much around me.  I can't handle too much motion.  It makes me confused.  As does loud music.  Or too many people in a room talking at the same time ( I hear every conversation and can't really pay attention to just one ).   It's not necessarily motion-sensitivity... that's more like getting car sick.   It's much deeper than that.  It's called: I need people to sit still and speak softly while around me.  Okay, it's sounding more and more like I'm the weird one.  Hmmm...maybe we need to explore this a little more.

Anyways, all of this to say that the beginning of our journey into adolescence is fun so far.  You never know what to expect from day to day.  One day he will sleep in till 10am so he can grow another 2 inches right in front of my eyes.  The next day, he's up at dawn and talking as fast as a chipmunk with as much energy to boot.  This just proves the age old adage, when you think you know what you're doing-everything changes.

Rubber Bands, Whining & Salvation

What in the world can those three things ever have in common?  Well, I'm about to tell you a little story that will tie them all together perfectly.

It seems like we've been 'teaching' Chloe that whining and complaining is not an optimal behavior for a long, long time.  This lesson doesn't want to seem to sink in.  Sometimes I despair of her ever learning it.  It's that bad.  We've tried everything to stop it.  Some things appear to work for a bit, but then the whining returns.

Whining and complaining and pouting are just a form of manipulation and control.   It's an understandable  and common trait found amongst the babies of the family.  Even so, in our opinion, it doesn't justify the behavior.  We need to teach her a better way to communicate her frustration.    It would be an injustice to her to allow her to continue on in life thinking this was an okay way to deal with people and situations.

Then it hit me...by constantly focusing on the 'bad' behavior, we're not reaching her heart.  The problem lies in her heart condition.  It is a choice she makes that comes from an ungrateful heart.  But how can we teach her to have a thankful heart?  The answer is easy...by example.

We constantly focus on what we are thankful for in our house - especially when things aren't going our way.  It's super important that Chuck and I model this attitude of thankfulness so that the kids grow up seeing this as 'normal' and hopefully it will be their default attitude without much thought or effort.

The latest scheme we came up with to try to get the whining to stop was to place a rubber band on Chloe's wrist every time we heard her whine or complain or pout when she didn't like our response to a situation or didn't get her way.  She would have to wear them all day, every day, everywhere.  It would be a constant visual reminder.  The hope was that she wouldn't want to always see it and would stop and think before speaking.  The first few weeks it worked great.  She would start each week anew and see how little she complained by how few rubber bands were on her wrist.  But then she stopped caring.  Uh-oh...now what?

As we were cuddling in bed the other morning, God showed me exactly what to do.  I asked her if she could please put all her rubber bands on my wrist.  "Why?" she asked.  "Because I want to teach you about grace and about what Jesus did for you."

She placed them all on my wrist hesitantly (she had accumulated about 8 or 9 already).  I told her, "Honey, these represent your sin.  This is what Jesus did for you.  He took your sin and made it his own.  Then he took your punishment you deserved for that sin.  He did this for you because he loves you so much. By taking your rubber bands, I'm taking your sin.  When you see your sin on me, I want it to make you thankful that someone loves you so much they are willing to take your punishment.  I want it to make you think really hard before you speak.  Because if you sin again, I have to bear the punishment.  I know you love me and I know it would make you super sad to see me have to hurt because of your sin.  Think of mommy before you act.  Just like, when we accept Jesus' gift, we think of Him before we act and our actions constantly show him how thankful we are for gift he gave us that we didn't deserve."

She was sad.  She didn't want me to wear her rubber bands.  But I wanted to.  I wanted her to see Jesus and his grace every time she saw those on my arm.  I wanted her to have a visual of how he takes our sin away, even and especially, when we don't deserve it.  She reached over and gave me a huge hug and thanked me over and over.  She told me how much she loved me.

Jesus knew exactly what she needed.  He reached down and touched her heart.  He put a picture in her mind that she will never forget.  He's showing her who He is and how He can change her life.  I just love how He works.  So gentle, so kind, so perfect for each individual need.  It is my prayer that one day Chloe will open her heart up to Him completely.  Not to make me happy, not because she's been cajoled, not because everyone around her is, but because she couldn't imagine living her life without Him and she can trust Him completely for everything.

I bet on that day, there will be no more whining or pouting.  And we can finally throw those rubber bands away.